856 A.D: A Rarely Known Beginning
by Dia
Summary: This is a new series I'm starting ^_^. This fic is about a girl, raised in a small village in England during the Middle Ages. To her, magic is evil. So what happens if her beliefs are shredded my one peice of paper? WARNING: It takes a while to get to the


This is a new series I'm starting (another one ()^_^) This series is about muggleborn  
witches and the problems they go through which are expected depending on which time  
period they lived in: ex. German-Jewish girl receiving letter in 1933. This one however, is  
a girl living in England during the witch burnings. Enjoy! Also it takes a while to get to the  
'part of the moment' so be patient!  
  
856 A.D: A Rarely Known Beginning  
  
- "Con-fir-ma hoc! De-us quad-o-pe-rá-tus in no-bis..." I sang to myself, humming  
the simple tune as I dug vertical grooves in the vast fields. Sweat trickled off my brow,  
falling onto the earth like a lonesome raindrop. I brought my soiled hand up to my face to  
wipe off the troublesome sweat even though it will return. The afternoon sun pounded  
against my scantly clothed back, baking my skin. I labored continuously through the humid  
afternoon, ignoring my throat's pleads for water to extinguish the dryness in my throat.  
Dirt mingled with my blond hair,causing an itching sensation. My ears were searching for  
the familiar calls for dinner in my mothers' voice. I heard nothing but grunts and groans  
from the men as they plowed through the dirt. I felt my vision waver as my bones cracked  
and ached in fatigue. I knew the cracks of my joints were cries for mercy to the  
unforgiving sun which was loathingly sinking slowly into the hills. I was about to  
surrender to the sun's harsh beatings till the sun fell asleep into the hills of England.   
  
- With the sun finally gone, I and the others lift our hoes out of the dirt and walk towards  
the small village neighboring the fields. I gaze upon my family's thatch house with smoke  
creeping out of the chimney along with the enticing aromas of food cooking. I hear the  
men grumbling about ' onion soup again..' and ' Damn girl shouldn't be workin' da' fields  
wit' da' men', but I don't care. I enter my family's home with the usual tired expression  
on my face.  
  
- "Haiti! I warned you about taking your Fathers' place on the fields! May God have  
mercy on thy soul!" My Mother shouted at me seeing me in the state I was in. Tired,  
thirsty, and starved.  
  
-" God will have mercy on my soul for doing a mans' job. I'm doing it for the forgiveness  
of Eve and my Fathers' life," I replied, sitting myself down in a rickety chair.  
  
- "What will happen if the villagers report you to Lord Peterson?" My Mother inquired  
while filling up a wooden cup with water.  
  
-"The villagers know and respect Father and they know I'm only doing this till Father  
starves the sickness," I said accepting the wooden cup my Mother gave to me.  
  
-I drank the water in only 3 gulps. The clear liquid cascading down my throat, curing the  
dryness. Not paying mind to the bowl placed in front of me filled with only a meager thin  
soup formed out of the juices of onions and some chicken broth. I placed the cup down  
next to my soup bowl and I scoop up the bowl and bring the hot mixture to my lips. The  
soup runs down my mouth wickedly slow. I try to ignore the bitter taste and just  
concentrate on eating it instead of spitting it out. I place the now empty bowl back on the  
table and wipe my mouth free from the ugly tasting liquid. I give God my thanks for the  
food that he has given me, and then I go to my mat with my Mothers' glare following me.  
She has a theory about my soul being sent to hell if I keep reciting grace after my meal  
instead of reciting it before. I lay on the thick, weaved grass mat which lays on the dirt  
floor of our home. I rest my head in my arms and twist and reposition my body in a  
comfortable position. I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.  
  
***********************************  
  
-"Haiti! Haiti! Wake up! Haiti!" I open my eyes in response to my name being called  
repeatedly. I look into my excited Mother's face, my senses covered by a blanket of  
drowsiness.  
  
-"What?" I asked, standing up to stretch my weary muscles to their full extent.  
  
-" They caught one of them devil worshipping varmints. Bloody witch is gonna' be burned  
in the centa' of town and we may miss it because of yo' laziness. Rid your face of dirt  
quickly child! We don't have all day!" My Mother commanded me, her finger pointing at  
the water basin.  
  
-I trudge towards the basin and duck my head into the water. I feel my hair separate into a  
thousand sections as water swept through the small strands. I throw back my head, and to  
my Mother's irritation, splattering the room with water. I turn to my Mother with water  
dripping off my chin. I don't wipe it off which only increases my Mother's grimace.  
  
-"Now come on, we may have missed it already," My Mother says standing halfway out of  
the doorway, her foot tapping in anticipation. She notices that I am ready and walks out of  
the door expecting, knowing, that I will follow her. I trail after her, glancing at each  
abandoned house as we walked. As we neared the town square the excited shouts and the  
drone of voices gotten louder, making it hard to concentrate on other things then the  
thought of a women being charged with treason against our God. When we arrived,the  
inhabitants of the village crowded around the crucifix, eyeing the bonded women on the  
sidelines with morbid fascination. The accused witch! I look at her. She had a strained  
expression on her face like..like..she was trying not to laugh! I look at her in shock and in  
curiosity. Laughing right before you die? Is she mad?  
  
-The rowdy crowd of villagers started to chant 'Bring the Witch! Bring the Witch!'. I  
watch as the men holding her dragged her up to the raised crucifix and appointed each arm  
to the opposite points of the horizontal bar. Appointing them with rough jerks and being  
impaled by a stake, the sharp point piercing through the main artery. Blood oozed out of  
the openings of the wrists but the woman's expression did not change. I barely heard the  
priest as he ordered the men to burn her. As the men were igniting the straw that lay at the  
woman's feet, our eyes met. My turquoise blue with her cobalt. I seen such kindness and  
care in those eyes as I stared in those deep blue depths I almost cried out in anguish as I  
seen the crimson flames cover her face in scarlet red. Those blue eyes closed as her head  
hung lifelessly. I felt my Mother tug at my arm, urging me to come back home with her. I  
just kept starring at the enigmatic figure. Strung up, burned, and left there to rot. I turn to  
see my Mother's frustrated face and I follow her back home without protesting.  
  
-" Aha! She got what she deserved! Didn't she Haiti?" My Mother asked as she literally  
skipped towards home. She had been rather cheerful and chatty since the burning, unlike  
me.  
  
-"Yah," I said, not really agreeing with her but I wanted her to shut up.  
  
- She didn't say anything afterwards. We walked home in silence and arrived in silence. I  
picked up my hoe where I left it; outside the door and run out to the fields. The pebbles  
and rocks that I stepped on didn't phase me a bit. I ran through the town passing people   
who were just starting to get to work. I run through the town exit onto the trail, enjoying the   
sensation of wind whipping though my hair.All of the sudden, I felt myself being  
pushed on the ground. I looked up to see a sincere looking man clothed in velvet. My  
body shook in fear. Was it a nobleman that found out about me working the Lord's land ,  
and came to hang me ? I looked at him with petrified eyes. All he did was glance at me,  
giving me a pitying look and handed me a piece of parchment. I look at him dumbfounded,  
secretly asking him what was his purpose. All he did was urge me to take the parchment  
with the glint in his ebony eyes. I take it from him and look at it. All it is is a parchment  
with intricate loops made with emerald ink. What am I supposed to do with this?  
  
- "I know, you're illiterate. Just look at the words and you'll hear them," He says, his  
voice with a cutting edge of impatience.  
  
-I look at the piece of parchment again. I hear something register in the back of my brain  
and in a booming voice I heard the whole letter's content. Saying absurd things like the  
fact that I'm a 'muggle-born' witch and that I'll have to be tutored by someone. I look  
back at the man in fear.  
  
- "I'm not a witch! I do not associate with the devil! Please, please believe me!" I cried in  
protest to my conviction. I wasn't a evil-doer!! I know and abide all God's rules! Tears  
traveled down my face.  
  
-" No you stupid child! I am here to bring you to my estate to teach you to control your  
powers! Not to accuse you of magic and burn you to the stake!" He yelled, his face  
becoming an apple red.  
  
-"But..but..." I whispered, gripping onto the hoe as if it were my life support. My head  
was full of ideas and wonders and both were swerving around. I heard the man say a  
strange incantation and point an abnormal stick at me. A flood of colors headed straight  
for me, piercing my heart. I felt myself slip away into a blur of color and then darkness hit  
me.  
  
*********************  
-The man they called William Cecil Snape looked at the girl in pity and kindness. With a  
simple chant and a flick of the wand he levitated the girl and apparated. The hoe she had  
been holding tightly had been left in the soil, abandoned. A small boy crept out behind a  
big oak and scampered towards the hoe. The small boy got on his knees and brought the  
hoe to his chest with tears seeping out of the corners of his eyes. To him, his friend and  
sister was gone. Killed by an evil warlock, but how wrong he was is surprising. Little  
Haiti, a child born to a farmer and a midwife with 12 brothers and sisters became one of  
the greatest witches of all time. No longer would Little Haiti be wearing brown torn rags,  
nor would she have mud and earth smudged on her face, but she will have a clean, pale  
complexion with her honey blond hair shining in the sun. Her name wasn't Haiti while she  
achieved this goal. Her name was Helga Hufflepuff.  
  
________________________________________________________________________  
  
-I'm sort of dissappointed on how slow it took to get to the point, but it's a start! The  
beginning where she siings the song is because the song she sang to herself was a song  
sung by farmers while working during the Middle Ages. It is called 'Confirma Hoc'. Also,  
the witch getting burned at the stake was a refernce to Wilenda the Weird, and that's is  
why she was laughing before she got 'burned'. I am not sure if Haiti is an English name,  
but oh well. Also, I believe Helga Hufflepuff was English because in a book I read it said  
that fair complexions, blonde hair, and blue eyes were the physical characteristics people  
living on England had. THIS IS NOT A SERIES ABOUT THE HOGWARTS FOUR! I  
just wanted to have Helga as a muggleborn. I hope you all enjoyed this. The explantion for  
the title is that very few people know that this was Helga before she was a witch.  
  
-Dia  
  
  
  



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